The Revolution Should Not Be Televised
by Kyla-Seashell
Summary: AU fic. Auteur/Literati/Java Junkie. Looking for inspiration to stand up to his tyrannical mother, Kirk goes online to search for mighty Kirks of the past. And what he finds...
1. Kirk

THE REVOLUTION SHOULD NOT BE TELEVISED 

AU fic. Auteur/Literati/Java Junkie. Looking for inspiration to stand up to his tyrannical mother, Kirk goes online to search for mighty Kirks of the past. And what he finds…my, oh, my.

**A/N:** I feel kind of bad about the title because it comes from the name of a song by this jazz musician, Gil Scott-Heron. His song was called "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised", and it was about the Black Power Movement, so it's probably not appropriate to use in this situation… but it was just too good to leave behind.

**Spoilers:** None. This takes place before the important stuff of season 2, i.e., the car accident.

KIRK

It was a normal day in Stars Hollow. Someone might have been thinking about his or her day, but the person didn't think to think about the normalcy level around him or her because it was too normal to be noticed. Wasn't it the strange and out of the ordinary that always got attention?

Everyone in Stars Hollow was normal in the sense that no one did anything out of the ordinary. Of course there must have been something in the water to make everyone as obsessive-compulsive as they seemed… but nevertheless, no one changed. The cheery, quirky townsfolk could always be counted on to be the cheery, quirky townsfolk. Any heightened rate of an outside view of normalcy for the residents of the hamlet would be, quite frankly, _abnormal_.

One of these people was Kirk Gleason. Kirk was an odd fellow, so odd that calling him by a full name seemed foreign to many. He led a simple life that moved along at moderate tempo in a hope on Blueberry Avenue. He lived with his mother, who was strict and seemingly evil in her constraints. Ever since he was young, Kirk hadn't been able to do all the things that other kids could do. No sleepovers, no going to the mall. He couldn't even play kick the can. Now he was almost 30, and in the same, stagnant situation.

Kirk didn't know what to do about his mother. He loved her very much, but he'd heard stories about the lives of other people his age – all the things they could do. Big boys could have one job, and a girlfriend, and a _car_. He wanted a car; one that went, _VROOM! VROOM!_ But he wondered: did cars actually go vroom-vroom? When he was younger, he'd made that noise, but he couldn't really know if it was real or not. That's how small his world was.

And besides the car, there were other things: the way she always cut his food into tiny little sections like she was the mama bird and he was still the baby. He couldn't touch the remote to the TV either. He didn't know what would happen if he did. He kind of wanted to find out. He kind of didn't.

He slept with the door open to his room because his mother thought that he still had nightmares of Michael Jackson's "Thriller" video. His room was small, compact, with clouds on the wall, and a brand-new bed: a red race car (When he was really sad, he would say vroom-vroom as his solace). It had replaced the bunk bed from the 80's because he'd gotten too big for it. His mother proudly voted for George W. Bush, and got that tax return. She was happy. She bought her son a bed.

So that was on tally in the column for mother-son bonding. But it wasn't enough. How come Lorelai and Rory had so much fun together? What was it about Lorelai that made her fun? Sure, she was other things (_Real pretty_, Kirk thought), but she was fun most of all.

Kirk started to think about all the people that liked – loved – Lorelai: Rory, Luke, Miss Patty, Sookie, Morey, Babette…the list was short, but it had the potential to  be much longer.

Kirk wondered if maybe his mother could take fun lessons from Lorelai, and then he and his mother would be able to do fun stuff together. He was fine with the rules they had – they were there for a reason, he understood. And his mother understood him sometimes. Sure, she had taken away his roller skates, but then she gave them back. She did keep the skate key, however. They had been her brother's.

The idea of fun lessons became increasingly appealing to Kirk. He was going to approach his mother about it one Sunday afternoon. He'd worked up his nerve: he looked into the mirror in the bathroom, covered in vapor and steam from his shower. He didn't shave, but he put shaving cream on anyway, and hung a towel around his neck. He furrowed his forehead, trying to make himself look tough and angry. He succeeded. He felt the pattern of wrinkles on his forehead; they tickled his fingers.

Kirk growled a mean fierce growl in preparation. One thing that his mother wasn't against was music. She gave Kirk a 50 cent allowance every night to do certain chores: bring her slippers; turn on the porch light; feed the pet mouse. (his name was Kirk, too) Kirk saved his money, and every once in a while, he bought a fresh 12 inch.

He had great records. Journey, Color Me Badd, Aaron Neville, New Kids on the Block – all the classics. He had noticed, however, that none of these records screamed… tough. Nothing screamed: THE REVOLUTION IS NEAR. That's how Kirk felt. That's what he wanted to shout from the damn rooftops.

So he went to Lane Kim.

"I got everything," she said. "You want angry? We have angry." She suggested Joan Jett. Kirk liked it.

"I'll take that one."

"No! I have more! Let me think of more," Lane urged. She offered to make him a mix CD. Kirk said that he didn't have a CD player.

"Oh, well, then. I can't help you. Sorry," she offered lamely.

It was a bad situation. How was Kirk to inspire himself to stand up to his mother, that towering inferno, that great presence, that big, green, frowning Wizard of Oz (figuratively)?

"Can you at least play some music for me so that I can hum the important parts?"

"Are you crazy? I can't let you up into my room!"

"Then how will I be inspired?"

"Watch _Oprah_."

"She doesn't do much for me."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They were at an impasse.

"Thanks, anyway," Kirk said, and he left before Mrs. Kim could shoo him away.

Kirk began to feel very silly. Why did he need music to help him be inspired? Why couldn't he muster the strength on his own? He also wondered what would result from him standing up to his mother. Might there be an explosion? Even if there wasn't – what was the point? He had a _good_ life. He had food, water, shelter, and lots of other great stuff. So what was he fighting?

But no – in the back of his mind, he knew something just wasn't right. He was already confined by the boundaries of a small town where change was seen as bad. It would be difficult for him to move out on his own, and everyone would talk for a while. But he wanted a new life; he wanted it very badly.

Suddenly Kirk was struck with an idea. He was Kirk. His name was Kirk, but he wasn't the first. No, there had been many other Kirks in history who had done wonderful, mighty, ground-breaking things, like what he was about to do. He couldn't think of any offhand (aside from Captain Kirk on _Star Trek)_, so he decided to go to the _Stars Hollow Public Library_. Surely they had a book there about people named Kirk.

The library was a meek, mellow place. There weren't very many books, but that was good: it wouldn't take Kirk as long to find which one was about people like him.

There was one librarian, a pretty young girl named Sarah. Kirk knew that she was new to the place since he'd resigned as librarian just a few weeks earlier. He decided to be bold.

"Hi," he said to her, a little too loudly.

She looked up from her _YM_ startled, then puzzled and then resumed the bored expression that her face had shown moments earlier.

"Hello. Can I help you with something?"

_Yes, I'd like to know if you have any books about people named Kirk._

What?

That was a _crazy_ idea! What had he been thinking? Why on earth would there be a book _only_ about people named Kirk? And even if there was… who would read it in this town besides him and his mouse and cat?

Kirk made an inner growling noise to himself. He was really upset. He was having a bad day. And this day was resulting from him trying to change things. Sometimes, good things came from trying to change things. In school he'd learned about all sorts of revolutionaries like Martin Luther King, Jr., and Susan B. Anthony, and George Washington. What he was doing wasn't really in the vein of any of those people, though.

The girl looked up at him expectantly.

"No, I'll be fine. I just want you to know that… you do a great job with this place. I'm proud."

"Thanks," she said. She made a face like she was too good for him to be talking to her.

Kirk nodded at her, and then approached the long desk of computers by the wall farthest from him.

The computers were all on, and he sat at the middle cubicle. He double-clicked the Internet program which opened to a search engine.

"Kirk" he typed.

The response he got was astounding. Who knew that there were so many Kirks out there? But the question was: were they doing great things?

Kirk Franklin – he was a good guy. Kirk read up on him. Kirk Franklin led a _gospel_ choir. That was definitely important – he was a churchgoing kind of guy, and he was innovating the world of secular music.

Kirk continued to look through the pages. There was a guy named Kirk who owned a car dealership. That was good, right? If not for him, the people of Peoria wouldn't have cars. 

He came across a saxophonist named Kirk MacDonald. But Kirk couldn't play the saxophone. Man, did that look cool. You got to wear sunglasses, and play smooth music. Kirk sure did love Kenny G. Yeah, that was cool… a _saxophonist_.

The most impressive Kirk that Kirk came across was a congressman. His name was Mark Kirk, and from Illinois. So what if his last name was Kirk? It was still Kirk.

He continued to scroll down the page, but stopped when he came across something very curious:

"Lol, I loved it when kirk asked out Lorelai!!! that was priceless. u could tell he really liked her. and 'you're the prettiest girl I've seen outside of a dirty magazine.' Hahahahahaha! I was LMAO!!!"

No.

No.

No.

It couldn't be the same Kirk. What was this thing? This… message board? He looked down the page and saw his name plastered everywhere next to the names Rory Gilmore, Lorelai Gilmore, and Gilmore Girls. The last link on the page was this:

"Hey, I'm Angie. I love _Gilmore Girls_, especially Kirk and Sean Gunn. This is my first fanfic about Kirk, so please R/R." 

The page led to something on FanFiction.net. He clicked on the link and what he saw nearly blinded him.


	2. Rory

RORY

Rory was having one of those days. One of those bad, _bad_ days when she would make up songs about how bad her day was. Her favorite was, "I Hate the World, And the World Hates Me". It went like this:

_I hate the world, and the world hates me/I hate the world, and the world hates me/I hate the world, and the world hates me/So I just hate the world_.

Catchy little tune.

There was some shindig going on in the town square that was very busy and very loud. Taylor was conducting some people to do something that they too must have seen as vague, as shown by their puzzled faces and unsure body movements.

Rory could have gone home, but her mother was there, and she would make her stay and eat junk food and watch movies. She could have gone to Luke's, but Jess was there, and he would only make her day worse in a weird convoluted sort of way that Rory was not going to think about.

She was standing near the "library". The library with no books, no helpful librarian (Kirk), really no nothing except the title of library. Maybe when it was younger, it had been a quaint spot for lovers to study and children to learn about the world. But now the place was old and decrepit, sort of like Margaret Thatcher, and really of no use.

It was air-conditioned, however, and it was a hot day. And it was quiet. At least it could be contend that much.

Nothing had changed since the last time Rory was in the library. The twelve books were still in their same spaces. The librarian, Rory noted, was new. A girl with whom she had attended Stars Hollow High. But Kirk, the ever-possessive, was still there, perhaps just checking to see that everything was running smoothly.

Kirk was just standing up from his computer to leave as Rory walked in. He marched over to her and gave her a stern look in the eye.

"You smutty, nasty, horrible girl. If Lorelai knew what you've been doing… I think she would be very disappointed. I know she's a 'cool mom' and all… but what _you_ did… _not_ cool." He pushed past her and walked out into the Stars Hollow day, where the sky was turning a bleak shade of trouble.

If only Rory could have had the least bit of an idea what he was talking about, then she could add that to the list of items that made her day so terrible. Suddenly Kirk burst back inside.

"I'm sorry, Rory, that was highly inappropriate," he said.

"Are you okay, Kirk?"

"I'm fine. I know you didn't mean all those things. If you love someone, well, then you should be free with them."

"Yeah, okay, sure…" she said, trying to play along.

"Just remember… wrap it up, every time."

"I'll try to remember that, Kirk."

"There's something more important at hand, however. I once loved a girl. Her name was Sally."

He paused.

Rory looked around.

Kirk cleared his throat.

"Well, anyway, Sally was a great lady. Beautiful, strong, smart. And she loved me."

"Wow," Rory said, genuinely smiling. She knew that the world must have been a different place back then when someone was in love with Kirk. Maybe it was the sixties during the eighties.

"But I could never tell her I loved her. I could never even get up the nerve to speak to her."

"Gee, that's… terrible."

"She was the one that got away."

"I'm sorry, Kirk. That's horrible."

"You say that now, but you'll be singing a different tune when it happens to you, my friend."

"What?" Rory asked, though the first thought that popped into her head was actually Jess's pleading face.

"I know," Kirk said ominously.

"You _know_?" Rory repeated skeptically.

"Yes. This whole masquerade of being in love with Dean—"

"Excuse me!"

"I read the stories. Now, I'll give you that some of them weren't very good. But through the filth, the murder, the love-torn insanity, there was one running theme: Jess is your soul mate."

"I think not."

"Well, that's what the stories said."

"What stories?"

"The stories about you. About me, though not very many. Everything was 'Gilmore Girls' this, and 'Gilmore Girls' that. What about the Gleason Guys!" he shouted. "What about us!" And he ran out of the library as fast as he could.

Now Rory could add something to her list of Top Ten Reasons Why She Was Having a Bad Day: Because her mother chose Stars Hollow.

Her mother was stupid, her mother was stupid, her mother was stupid. But her mother wasn't really stupid, and Rory knew that. But she had to blame someone. And she had to stop thinking that everything she did concerning Jess was a mistake. And the same for Dean.

She stepped outside of Stars Hollow Public Library and walked out into the street. She could see Luke's, where it would probably always be. Keyword: probably.

As expected, Lorelai was sitting on the couch in sweats, watching _The Three Stooges_.

"Mom!"

"Living room!"

"Hey."

"Hey," she said through laughter.

"Better every time, huh?"

"Oh, _totally_. How was your day?"

"Sucky, icky, nasty."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well." Rory sat down beside her mother on the couch and dropped her backpack in front of her. "Hey." She turned to look at Lorelai with a serious expression.

"_Hey_," Lorelai said puzzled.

"Have you heard about some stories about us on the Internet?" she began cautiously.

"Uh, _no_," Lorelai said, sitting up and facing Rory completely. "What stories?"

Lorelai looked really concerned. She looked worried, which was justified, but now Rory knew that she would have to continue telling Lorelai something that already had no direction or definite meaning.

"Well, Kirk said that he saw a bunch of stories about all sorts of bad stuff I'd done, and it was talking about Gilmore girls and—"

"And Big Brother is apparently live and in effect, now. Oh, shush," said Lorelai, rolling her eyes and turning back to Larry, Curly, and Moe. "I wouldn't worry about it, hon. After all, Kirk is the one who thought that Katie Couric was sending a telepathic message to him when William Shatner was on _The Today Show_ a few months ago. Kirk's… Kirk." She gestured with her hands to prove her point.

"But what he said…" Then Rory remembered what he had said: something along the lines of "You're in love with Jess." What if he was right?

What concerned Rory was that she was concerned about what Kirk of all people had said: that Jess would get away from her. Never mind the fact that someone was writing stories about her all over the Internet. What if she lost Jess? Or what if all this time she had been imagining things, and he didn't really care?

Either way, she couldn't prove anything to her mother, nor did she want to. Lorelai was too absorbed in the television to understand anyway.

"I don't know," Rory finished lamely. "He just told me some things that it seemed like I'd been thinking, and—"

"Rory, come on," Lorelai gave her a you-know-better-than-that look.

"What? You don't know."

"This is the most insane thing I've ever heard. What people?"

"I don't know."

"Well, there you go."

Lorelai wouldn't let herself understand. Rory was so frustrated. She didn't know why she felt frustrated, but she did. She herself had no idea what Kirk was talking about, and what he had said was total nonsense… but it made too much sense to ignore.

"There's probably stuff about you, too, you know," Rory blurted.

"_What_?"

"Yeah, there's probably stuff about how you and Luke are so madly in love with each other, but you're both too scared to do anything about it."

"Okay, that's enough." Lorelai turned off the TV and walked even steps up the stairs and towards her room.

"Mom, if it's true, I want you to read those stories."

"What stories!" Lorelai shouted from the top of the stairs.

"I don't know!" Rory shouted back.

"Well, okay then!" Lorelai yelled.

"Well, okay then to you, too!" Rory yelled again.

Lorelai stomped into her room and slammed the door, and Rory did the same.


	3. Lorelai

LORELAI

Stories. There were no stories! Stories about what? Lorelai didn't know. Why? Because Rory didn't know. Why? Because she had gotten the information from _Kirk_. Kirk. Kirk. One more time: KIRK. Lorelai said his name over and over again, just to remind herself that anything that came out of _his mouth_ came out of his mouth. So there.

She paced around her room, mad at nothing at all, but just mad in general. How dare Rory? How dare she?

But what had Rory _done_? a little voice inside Lorelai asked. She hated her inner voice, the one that always tried to overrule her pride and her brain and her mouth, which was most dominant.

There were no stories. And if there were stories, which there weren't, they certainly weren't about her and Luke. And if someone was going to write stories about her, why would they be about her and Luke? There _was no her and Luke_. Anyone could see that, she told herself every day.

That was the saddest part. Every day she went to Luke's, and every day he was there. Every day he wore a baseball cap. Every day he wore flannel. Every day he told her that coffee was bad. Every day they flirted.

A few times she had slipped up, and envisioned them together. She'd seen them kiss, hold hands, go to the monthly Stars Hollow festivals together. She'd written her own stories in her head, and those were more comfort than Larry, Curly, and Moe any day.

It wasn't what she wanted, though. She didn't want Luke. She wanted the person who was perfect for her, who would satisfy everything she'd ever fancied or had thought about. People looked at life as a puzzle, as cliché as Lorelai saw it. But there were pieces and people that fit together, like fingers, like knots, like those Russian dolls that Emily had a thousand of. _Where was he?_ Lorelai wondered. And why couldn't Luke be him?

Lorelai knocked on Rory's door.

"What?" Rory mumbled from inside.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

Lorelai opened the door to see Rory lying on her bed with her head on her arms.

"Rory, hon, what's going on here?"

Rory sighed. "I don't know," she whispered, looking scared. Her eyes opened wide, and Lorelai thought she looked like a Bambi-type person.

Lorelai sat down on the bed to be close to Rory. "I really don't think that someone is reading our minds and writing about what they know."

"But Kirk… the things he said… it was so strange. I _know_ he's Kirk, but still… it was so strange," she repeated.

"What exactly did he say?"

Rory shrugged. "Just about how he knew what I was up to because of what he'd read."

"What were you up to?"

"I don't know, but it sounded very Heidi Fleiss-y."

"That's intense," Lorelai commented, raising her eyebrows. "I'm impressed."

"Yeah, well."

"Hey look –  why don't we go talk to him? Find out what's going on, even if it's all in his head," Lorelai offered comfortingly.

"I don't think he's going to be very forthcoming."

"Well, we'll take him to Luke's, buy him some pie and a big mug of root beer, which he will think will make him drunk, and then he will be very forthcoming."

Rory sighed. "I feel horrible."

"Yeah, I can tell."

"I just feel _so_ bad. I don't think I've ever felt this bad. And for no distinct reason."

Lorelai rubbed Rory's back, and lay down beside her.

"No," Rory said sitting up. "Let's go now. I want to settle this. I don't even believe it, but I want to get this over with so I can sleep tonight. I don't want anyone spying on me."

Lorelai sat up and followed her daughter out of the room. "I'll go change. It'll just take a sec." Lorelai ran up the stairs and into her room.

It had become routine for Lorelai to change her appearance somehow before she and Rory went to Luke's; sometimes clothes, sometimes curling or straightening her hair. So far Lorelai hadn't come up with any decent excuses as to why she always did this, so she ignored Rory's teasing looks; Rory's perturbed looks; Rory's pitying looks.

Lorelai began to toy with the thought of someone knowing her feelings as she began to toy with her hair. If there could be someone out there who could say to Luke what she couldn't… that would be the answer to the request she'd subconsciously shot out to the universe. There was this recurring dream she kept having that always kept her awake and wishing for snow after each time… maybe now it would end.

Why was she so lonely today?

 Rory was waiting by the door when Lorelai appeared downstairs. Rory gave her mother a long, serious look which Lorelai didn't see very often. The bad feeling which Rory had expressed earlier now penetrated Lorelai's condition. She too did not know why she suddenly felt so bad.

"Was it about Jess?" Lorelai said as they drove to Kirk's house.

"What?" Rory murmured with a desperate tone in her voice.

"Did Kirk tell you something you were thinking about Jess?"

"Yes," Rory admitted quietly.

Lorelai nodded, and then sighed.

Outside of Kirk's house there was a giant plastic Santa twice the size of Lorelai.

"I'm not even going to comment on that one," Lorelai said as she walked towards the door. She rang the doorbell. "Okay, I am. First of all, it's not Christmas. Second of all: it's wearing _glasses_. And not just glasses, but those kind that Elton John used to wear that I think legally only Elton John can wear."

"Mom, watch what you say."

"Oh, that's right – we're being _spied on_," she shouted angrily. "Boy, does my life suck." No one came to the door, so she furiously began to ring the doorbell. "I hate it when people leave their Christmas decorations up all year. I hate it! And I hate it when the trash guy comes late, and when at restaurants, the rolls are cold, and when someone always chooses to play every Boyz II Men song in the jukebox at Pizza Hut – _in a row_. Why do people do that? Why?" She was still ringing the doorbell.

Finally Kirk opened the door slightly and peered through the crack.

"I heard the bell the first time," he said, glaring.

"Really? 'Cause I don't think you did, hon. We've been standing out here for hours, and you've been in there doing God knows what while we just stood out here waiting."

"I've been unlatching the latches," Kirk explained, looking smug and hurt all at the same time.

"What?"

"There are twenty-seven."

"Twenty-seven what?"

"Twenty-seven locks on the door."

"Why?" Rory and Lorelai asked in unison.

"Well, there were only twenty-four before, but I found a lottery ticket the other day, a winner, so I decided to buy something for the house. I bought these locks."

Lorelai turned to Rory and gave her that look that signified everything about life she couldn't explain in words.

"Well, Kirk, that's a good investment," Lorelai remarked. "Look," she continued. "Rory told me that you told her about some crazy thing about… I don't know…" She looked to Rory with an embellished look of confusion on her face. "Stories? I don't know."

"Yes, I've almost read all of them now. I printed them out from the library."

"Printed what?"

"The stories," Kirk said, as if that were enough explanation.

"What stories?" Lorelai and Rory eagerly asked.

"The ones about you."

"Okay, Kirk, we _really_ need to talk about this. Can we come inside?"

"Mother's resting now."

"Okay, good. Then let's go to Luke's, huh?"

"I'm not very hungry," Kirk said meekly.

"You don't have to eat," Lorelai promised. "We'll just talk a bit."

"Talk about what?"

"The stories."

"They're not very good."

"My expectations are low, don't worry."

"Do you want to take one home?" Kirk asked. He opened the door completely to reveal the walls of his home completely covered in computer paper taped to the walls.

"That's them?" Lorelai asked, breathless.

"Just about 700. I stapled them together, and grouped them by section: Trories, Literatis, Java Junkies. That's you, by the way."

"What?" Lorelai's heart began to speed up.

"The people who write Java Junkie stories are the ones who 'ship you and Luke. I studied up. We all think he's your soul mate, just like Jess is for Rory."

"Oh, my God," Lorelai said. She put her hand on her forehead, and then covered her eyes. "Oh, my God. I don't know what's going on but I have to get out of here." She felt her eyes begin to tear up, and she stumbled to their car. She didn't check to see if Rory was behind her; she felt for the handle of the Jeep and got in. She enveloped her face into the steering wheel and started to sob. They sat in Kirk's driveway a very long while, and he didn't bother them.  Her only comfort for the rest of the night was Rory's hand smoothing her freshly curled hair.


	4. Gilmore Girls

GILMORE GIRLS

The next morning, Rory and Lorelai awoke in the same bed. Lorelai didn't look very pretty in her frog pajamas, and the hair spray from the night before had rematerialized itself in a molecular structure so that it was all pushed to one side, curly and frizzy like Sheila E. Not that that was a bad thing. In the 80s.

Moving along. Lorelai was all pushed to the side and curled up with a frown on her face. She kept shuffling around in Rory's bed, pushing the sheets along with Rory.

Rory looked more comfortable. She had made the smart choice of wearing loose pajamas to bed, and as for her hair…it was cutely ruffled. Jess would have liked it that way.

Jess was leaning towards her face, noting how soft her skin was, and the incomprehensibility of how her eyes could be so blue.

"You have killer blue eyes," he said. "They match your sweater really nicely."

She smiled.

Jess reached his hand toward her face and stroked it softly. She smiled again and let her head meld into his hand. They sat together like that, at a table by the window at Luke's, for a very long time it appeared. She thought that maybe Lorelai was trying to come inside, and that Dean was outside either upset or sad, but she couldn't be sure.

Lorelai jabbed Rory with her foot and Rory's bizarre dream sequence was over. She realized her dream was a dream and sunk deeper into her pillow and buried herself in covers and her arms, and even clung to Lorelai.

Lorelai was neither awake or asleep it seemed, but in both states, she had been highly afflicted with something. She was sweaty from all the tossing and turning she'd done the previous night, but was too upset and lazy to get up.

"Rory," she mumbled. She turned to face Rory who quickly shut her eyes. "No, you're not asleep. Wake up." Lorelai shook Rory who twisted to face Lorelai with an early morning scowl on her face.

Lorelai sighed and rubbed her hands up and down her face, through her hair along her neck and down her legs until she was rejuvenated enough to get up.

"What do you want to do today?" she asked, looking over her daughter.

"I don't want to think right now," Rory replied.

"Do you want to call someone and have them come over?" Lorelai asked.

"Who, like the Ghostbusters?"

"No, like Lane or someone."

"Someone who?"

"Someone anyone."

"Huh." Rory sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees and stared at herself in the mirror.

There was a short lull so that each Gilmore girl could think deep thoughts.

"What time is it?" Rory asked.

"Seven," Lorelai answered. "Eew…" she said.

"Blech," Rory concurred. She jumped out of bed and stuck her toes into her furry pig slippers. "I'm going to go outside," she announced. "It's been so long since I had a nice conversation with Babette's knomes."


	5. Rory

RORY

Rory wanted some fresh air. She had slept in her tiny bed with her tempestuous, long-limbed mother, and now she felt icky and strange. The heat had made her hair stick to her neck, and her skin to her pajamas and underwear. She should have taken a shower, but for now she wanted to see Connecticut in the early morning, when it was still dewy, and the air had a crispness to it that made breathing and especially thinking quite easy.

Rory opened the front door to the weight of her world: the stories on long sheets of old-school computer paper, wilted from the moistness of the first hours of day.

She swallowed and stood staring down at them contemplating what to do next. Inside she could hear Lorelai moving through the house…up the stairs…down the hallway…into her own room. She was going back to bed.

Rory checked to see that the door was still unlocked and closed it behind her. She sat down on the top step which was empty to get a full view of what was around her. The stacks were all different heights, she assumed grouped into the clusters Kirk had mentioned. Later she would go through them and figure everything out, and make lists.

Rory was starting to accept that nothing really made sense anymore. The idea that she was being watched had punched into her brain so many times that the little spot was sore and numb, and she couldn't feel anything anymore. She wondered if Mama Kim was right, and there was a God. Was she being punished?

Maybe she wasn't being punished. Maybe this was a sign. Her nose crinkled at the thought of signs telling her things. She wasn't like that. But maybe this was the point where she was supposed to change her mind about everything.

Rory had a diary. Everyday she tried to write in it. She wrote about everything really, and the book was fairly comprehensive in its version of her world, though she wasn't very truthful. How many times had she mentioned Jess? Not very many. And she knew that she would regret that later in life, not having any memories of him.

She lay down on the porch, which was damp, but soothingly cool. This was the time for her to examine her life recently and put everything together; to come out of denial and think rationally. As a stalling tactic, however, Rory began to think of all the similes that dealt with putting things together: puzzles, plugs…that was the extent of the list. _Where are my poetic devices today?_ Rory thought pathetically.

Okay. This was it. She was going to sort this out.

Well, first of all, one day when she and Jess were together, she was going to be very upset that she didn't have a detailed record of the beginnings of the relationship, like with Dean. She wasn't allowed. Maybe she should have gotten a different diary to write down all her forbidden thoughts, but it was too late now. Wasn't it?

And really – when was that "one day" going to come? She was going to college next year, just about a year and a half. She began to rationalize that there was no point in Jess, no diversion. At the most she would sleep with him and get it over with and would be sad and then leave.

Rory added this to the list of thoughts she was not allowed to have.

Lorelai would be furious with her. She wouldn't be nice, and say, "Oh, but I understand you love him—"

She cringed.

Everyone would see that Rory wasn't perfect. That image was one that she had grown quickly tired of with age, but it was better than that of a foolish girl who was going to be Sandy in _Grease_ and find the leather-jacket guy and perm her hair.

Jess understood her, didn't he? She felt very close to him somehow, like he was always there.

Rory put her hands on her stomach, then slid them under her hipbone, moving all around on the wood.

Jess was going to be there and know what she was thinking at all times. He was going to make things easy for her because he was just like her in a way – he knew what it was like. He trusted her, for some reason, and she wanted to take advantage of that. She wanted to tell him everything; for him to know everything; for him to take everything from her and have it as his own.

Thinking about all of it now was beginning to get easier moment by moment. Now it was starting to make sense; that she was being a normal person instead of a normal teenager. The weight of what she was telling herself was a bit overwhelming – like climbing a mountain and adjusting to the altitude. But when she reached the apex, what would that be? When? _Where_?

Rory changed positions by sitting up. She smiled feeling relieved that she didn't have to be in denial anymore. But all around her were things people – and who knew who they were – had written about her. Supposedly. She hadn't actually read anything yet, and she reminded herself that this was Kirk she was dealing with.

The first story she picked up was called "I Really Miss You". The summary: 

"Trory song fic. Tristin is in North Carolina…but what will Rory do when he comes back?"

The first few paragraphs were the lyrics to a song. Rory laughed.

**S Club 7 - I Really Miss You**

I called you today just to hear you say you were not around

When the message was through, though I wanted to 

I couldn't make a sound

I wanna tell you the thing I've seen

I wanna take you to where I've been

And I wish you were here with me

I really miss you Yes I do – yeah

I really miss you

Ohhhh yeah I do

She wasn't feeling very intimidated now. The entire stack of stories from which she'd picked up "I Really Miss You" were about Tristin. In fact almost all of the stories around her were about Tristin, or Trory, as they were more obsessively called.

Now she began to doubt the relevance of what Kirk had found. It had seemed like what he'd seen reflected her thoughts, but her thoughts weren't about Tristin DuGray. No…perusing the little booklets she saw that – apparently – all this time she'd been deeply in love with Tristin, but too scared to admit it:

Rory Gilmore knew in her heart that he was the one for her. When she looked into his crystal blue eyes, she saw a fire burning, a fire and passion that she too felt. She longed to touch him, to reach out to him, to ease his pain…not knowing a real family, bad break-ups, and the worst that Rory had rejected him over and over again.

_My God_, Rory thought. What she didn't want was to start doubting that whole thing with Tristin as well as the thing with Jess. She pictured Tristin's face in her head, looking all smug and _GQ­_-ish.

Nothin'.

She dropped the dissertation-length file back onto the porch and walked to the other side. There were pretty little piles arranged in pretty little arcs. Kirk was such a freak.

This is what Rory learned in a short period of time:

The Balcony Buddies were the people writing about her mom and dad; the balcony where they'd shared many "special moments".

Java Junkies: Her mother and Luke. That was cute. She would definitely read those.

Teacher's Pets: Her mother and Max. Lorelai had a lot of admirers, even people who were out of the picture.

Trories: Blech.

Narcoleptics: Her and Dean. A creative name, she thought.

Literati: Rory and Jess. She smiled and felt her stomach warm up, like it was smiling along with her.

She ran her finger along the places where she saw their names together. R/J.

Dippers: Paris and Jess? When was there a Paris and Jess?

That didn't matter. Rory was currently reading someone Greek, but could pause for one day. With only quick glances, she determined that the reading material before her wouldn't be up to par with anything besides a book with Fabio plastered on the cover, but that was just one of a few new mindsets that she would have to get used to.


	6. Kirk

KIRK

When Kirk was a little boy, a long while ago, his mother had become very ill one day, with what she said was the gallopin' consumption. She couldn't get out of bed, therefore she could not work, or sew, or even cook for little Kirk. It was in times like those that Kirk wished for his father…he got really hungry when he didn't eat.

After that Ms. Gleason vowed with God as her witness that she would never let her boy go hungry again. She decided that she would teach him to cook.

Now Ms. Gleason was no Emeril, or even Dom Delouise. She could make fried chicken, and steam vegetables, but mostly, just fried chicken. What a great day it had been when Luke's had opened.

Kirk ate at Luke's every day, but sometimes he liked a nice home-cooked meal; a nice chicken wing sizzled and simmered to perfection. This day in Stars Hollow was one of those days. It was warm and sunny outside, the perfect day for a walk, but Kirk knew it was too early to go outside in, well, you know, _public_. With those people. He'd left many of the stories on Rory and Lorelai's porch, but there were still many inside his home, though he'd taken them off the walls: Mom didn't approve.

Kirk still hadn't found very many stories about himself. The ones he did find all featured him trying to take over the world in some way. Ha! Like he'd do that. It was mildly offensive, and he felt disheartened at the thought that people only saw him as a cruel, conniving, calculating person. But at least he got to wear a cape in the stories.

In a way, however, he did have control of Stars Hollow. He sat down in the chair in front of the stove to get a better grasp on the thought.

He wasn't supposed to have seen last night, but Lorelai had been crying. She just sat in his driveway and cried while Rory watched looking very sad. Everyone was very sad. Well, was it because of the stories? He was afraid so. He didn't want to make anyone cry, especially not Lorelai; especially not after she had made him cry. Hmph.

It really all was very sad – there were stories of love, lust, loss. Of course, most things ended happily (the ones that had endings), but there was so much desperate pain. Kirk wondered why anyone bothered. He was being smart by staying out of the dating scene. And besides, _Blind Date had rejected his application._

Some of the stories he'd read were just scary; very bad things occurred. Sometimes Rory got raped, or she died, or Lorelai had cancer. A lot of the time, Lorelai and Luke ruined their friendship because of, well… sex. Kirk made the word small in his mind, but with the fans' fiction, it was very big. And sometimes it was between two boys, or two girls:

At first Jess was jealous of Dean. He wanted Rory. He wanted her because she was smart and sweet and perfect for him. But Rory didn't know what she wanted. She couldn't make up her mind. So Jess decided he was gonna help her.

Rory thought that she could save the world, and that she knew Jess. _Whoa, if she knew how I REALLY am, Jess thought. He was smoking a cigarette. "Fuck," he said. Dean was something special to him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but a lot of the time when he pretended hate Dean and kill him, he was just trying to play off the fact that he wanted him. He wanted to feel him beside him touching, feeling and caressing._

Kirk couldn't be sure if this was true or not. He didn't _think that Dean or Jess was like that, but how could he know? There was so much of this slash stuff that he wondered if maybe all of Stars Hollow had a super-big secret that they weren't telling him. Oh, no – that was it!_

The chicken was halfway done now, just a few more minutes.

Maybe Rory and Lorelai didn't have normal mother-daughter problems; maybe one night, Lorelai had caught Rory and Luke "together". Or that's why Lorelai and her parents lived in different cities; sure, a man had gotten Lorelai pregnant at sixteen, but maybe Lorelai wanted to raise the child with her _real lover, and then everything went to hell._

Hmm.

Kirk felt pretty weirded-out by all these rambling thoughts. He stood to turn the heat down on the stove and walked in circles around the kitchen area.

The most important thing he wanted to focus on was his power. Superheroes were super-keen, but that wasn't his role in life – to wear tights and fly around and save tiny women from monsters. He knew all sorts of things about the main characters of his life that either they did not know or wouldn't admit. Why was that? Weren't you supposed to reveal your feelings? To make sure everyone knew just how you felt, just in case? Sometimes the people of Stars Hollow could be really silly and stubborn. Like Luke, for instance. He was _so in love with Lorelai. It was torture for everyone to stand back and watch them not be together. Especially Kirk, 'cause boy had he put a lot of that money in the pool Patty started. And nothing stood in their way; not Rachel, not Max (and certainly not Kirk, darn it); the two of them were just two big scaredy-cats in Kirk's opinion._

This was possibly the most poignant thing Kirk had ever thought, and it almost brought a tear to his eye. He checked the chicken, and it was done, a fully-ripened golden brown, like the hatching of a hen's bright new egg.

Luke's was very crowded when Kirk walked in, and he almost reconsidered trying at all. He'd bought a picnic basket made of bamboo shoots a few days before at a woven craft sale, and now he had a use for it. His mother packed the chicken wings and legs in the basket and covered them with a red checkered napkin. Kirk put in the spaceman that came with his cereal for good luck. They would need it.

He was standing near the door clutching his picnic basket when Jess shuffled past him, carrying multiple plates of food. Oh. He had forgotten about him. Now he had double the work to do.

"Table for one?" Kirk announced, raising his hand. Jess ignored him, but Luke told him that he could sit wherever he chose.

There was one empty table in the corner of the restaurant, which was perfect: it would let Kirk analyze everything around him. He was feeling very Nancy Drew. He even had a notepad with him and a pen. If not Nancy Drew, he wanted to be Columbo (though sometimes he felt like Steve from _Blue's Clues)._

The first thing he noticed was that nothing seemed different. Taylor was wearing the same sweater he always wore, hot or cold, dressy or casual. He was sipping from his spoon slowly, with much meaning and attention focused on his movements. Luke walked by every few moments to see if Taylor was still there, being Taylor, and each time, Taylor raised his head and sniffed like he was one of those people who was just going to make people feel bad about themselves all the time.

There was also Jess, who when given a moment's pause, read a book. Every time the door jangled open, Jess looked up, looking hopeful – that Rory might come, Kirk knew.

Kirk felt so very different, and his whole world was different now. Someone knew about him, about Stars Hollow and everything about them… how could everyone go on like everything was normal?

"What'll you have Kirk?" Luke said in his normal agitated and bored tone.

"Fried chicken. But you don't have to make it for me."

"What?"

"I have it right here, in this picnic basket."

"Okay, well great. Go have yourself a picnic. I got regular customers waiting for a table so that they can order food."

"I'll have a slice of pie, then."

Luke sighed. "What kind?"

"Bloomenberry?"

"Kirk."

"Apple will do. And some lemonade. It's hot outside today."

"Comin' right up."

Kirk bit his lip and frowned. Luke was not in the mood to hear what Kirk had to say. But Luke was never in the right mood.

Kirk drew out his small notepad and wrote some more things down. He used his most recent note for inspiration: _Always attack from the back._

"Luke, I know something about you that you don't know!" Kirk shouted. Everyone froze and looked at Luke, not Kirk.

"What?" Luke said, not seeming fazed. "Kirk, get outta here."

"No, Luke, I have something important to say."

"Say it to the wall. Jess!"

Jess looked up from his book and then hopped up, approaching Kirk.

"No, please, not this again," Kirk pleaded.

Jess grabbed Kirk's elbow and gently led him out the door.

"Sorry, man," Jess said, not looking sorry at all. "Try again later." And he locked the door.

Saturday morning and no where to go. He decided to come back later, like Jess had mentioned. Until then, he could look for one of those Groucho Marx disguises so that he could actually get in.

Kirk bit into one of his chicken wings... _Perfect, he thought. __Everything is coming together._

Hi, it's me, the girl who wrote this story. I should probably upload more than one chapter at a time, and I do have several more written, but I have to fix a few things first and make it sound right. I hope you've enjoyed so far. J


	7. Luke

LUKE

Of course Luke had secrets. He had secrets from Lorelai, from his mom, from his dad, and hopefully not in that order. He had secrets from Jess, and everyone related to him in some way. But he didn't have secrets from Kirk.

Luke held on tighter to the pot of coffee he was holding and let out a big sigh. He bit his tongue, trying to snap himself out of what he was thinking.

Kirk was not a threat to anyone. Kirk didn't always wear a belt, and sometimes his pants slipped down to reveal undies with rockets on them, and _Why am I thinking about this?_ Luke muttered shaking his head and looking sick.

Kirk was just Kirk. Nothing else. Luke was surprised that he even had a last name. So Kirk was not the type to know things….

When Luke was younger, his mother had always pointed out how much he did this: his paranoia, his need to over-analyze every little thing; to be more than a tough-on-the-outside-soft-on-the-inside type of guy. His mother was possibly the only person who had seen his overwhelming insecurity, which could only make him more insecure. Was Lorelai like his mom? When you got married, you were supposed to find someone like your mom, but how was that even possible?

Taylor dropped his teaspoon with a loud clank.

"Oops, Luke, I'm so sorry. Didn't mean to disturb. Continue your coffee-pouring."

"Taylor! Luke shouted.

"Well, you don't have to get snippy about it. Humph." He muttered something to himself.

With Jess around now, blaring that indie new wave crap all the time, Luke didn't have very much time to concentrate. He'd stopped reading the newspaper, using all his free time to just think. Last week he'd even broken out his old turntable, going through his dad's collection of Sinatra. Every night after Jess was asleep and snoring, Luke put on headphones and lay back on his bed listening to the music, peaceful with the notes slipping over each other like beads of oil. He'd bought an electric tuner for his guitar, too…he was ready to play again.

By now the diner was almost empty except for a few folks sipping their last bits of coffee and tea. Luke rested himself against the counter and watched the door. It was eleven A.M, way past the Gilmore feeding time. They weren't exactly early-birds, but still.

Jess joined him behind the counter and assumed the same position. Luke hoped that soon he would be able to tell Jess how they were alike. Someone had to be the one to tell him. Luke didn't have anyone to tell him things about himself anymore, and to reassure that the sky was blue. It was one of those neglected things in his mind that he only thought of once he knew that the opportunity had faded. He turned to look at Jess and watched him until Jess rolled his eyes and shifted. He took up his book again and Luke grinned. This is what it was about. If this is what kids was, then it would be great one day. Really great.

"So," Luke said open-ended to Jess.

Jess looked up from his book and gave Luke that classic, I'm-waiting-for-you-to-inspire-me look.

"So what?"

"Nothin'." Luke said, turning away. "Where is everyone today?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"It was a rhetorical question."

"Since when do you ask those?"

Luke narrowed his eyes at Jess. "You're in a particularly...you mood today."

"You don't need me down here, do you?" Jess picked up his book and went toward the curtain that led upstairs. Luke followed.

"You're following me?" Jess asked.

"Yeah, I'm following you." They were in the apartment and Jess kicked aside a piece of plastic on the floor left from the renovations. He sank down on the couch. "You're a great kid, Jess."

"Are you kidding me?" he said with a fake look of sickness on his face.

"No, really. You're a great kid and I bet that no one's ever told you that before."

"Actually, you're wrong. But he wanted too much money for my 'services', so I told him to beat it."

"I don't want you to be regretful one day that you missed something."

"Missed what?"

"I don't know. Anything."

"Well, if I'm missing something, I can't do anything about it."

"Sure you can."

Jess started to move the parts in his mouth around, and he sat with his head on his fist, looking like a more serious Gary Coleman.

Luke sat beside him on the couch. "You can learn from my mistakes."

"You've made mistakes?" Jess said in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah, I've made mistakes, and I don't want you to make the same ones."

"Why do you care?"

"'Cause you're my nephew."

"Oh, that's a great reason."

"'Cause you're my nephew and you know why. So just listen, okay? Don't do anything stupid that you know is stupid to try and rebel and be tough 'cause I tried that and it didn't work."

"Whatever."

"You could try finding a new catchphrase, too." Luke said.

Jess opened the door to the stairs and Luke followed. "Hey, we're not finished here! I've got tons of stuff to say to you, Jess, so you're not going anywhere until I'm finished—"

They stepped in time together down the staircase - Luke noticed that happened a lot - and there were Lorelai and Rory.

"I don't want to talk to Kirk," Rory said.

"Well, the last time I tried, I ended up in tears."

"It's not that bad," Rory said.

"It's not that bad! Rory!" Suddenly Lorelai turned around and saw Luke and Jess standing there.

"Hi," Lorelai said with a fake-looking smile. Luke noticed that Taylor was gone.

"Hi," Luke said. "Rory."

She looked down. A knot began to form in Luke's stomach. He saw himself somewhere on a slippery floor and he was sliding towards a big hole, and he couldn't stop…it was a pesky little image, showing up in dreams he wanted to forget.

"Coffee?" Luke offered as a stock question, but he made no move to pour any.

"You have to ask?" Lorelai sat down at the counter and Rory followed.

"Hey," Jess said to her seriously, leaning forward. Rory smiled kind of, but then looked away.

"Are you hungry, Rory?" Luke said to Rory as sincerely as he could make the words sound.

She shook her head and looked at Lorelai who had a sad, apologetic expression on her face. Rory's eyes began to water and she began breathing heavily until she was crying. Luke stood back and so did Jess as they watched Lorelai take Rory's head into her arms.

"What's wrong?" Luke said firmly.

"It's just..." Lorelai began, and she looked away.

"Is it Kirk? What did he do? He was just in here, what did he do?"

"It's complicated," Lorelai said in broken words. "I know that sounds lame, but, I don't know how to explain."

"I'll go find him right now," Luke said in a determined voice. He headed for the door.

"Luke, wait!" Lorelai cried.

Luke turned around while holding on to the doorknob. "He was just here," he repeated. "He came in and sat down right there, and he was up to something?" He didn't understand what real mayhem Kirk could cause. He didn't want that little worm of suspicion to keep snaking up his throat like it had been since Kirk had come in earlier. "It is Kirk, isn't it?"

"He didn't do anything," Lorelai said staring at the wall. "He didn't know. How could anyone know?"

"Lorelai, know what?" he said

She turned her head to where Luke gestured at Kirk's table. That's when Luke saw it. How had he not seen that sitting there? Taylor had been sitting there. Lorelai continued to stare over at the table.

"Is that it?" he asked Lorelai.

"Is that what? I don't know. Let me see it."

Luke brought the notebook to Lorelai and Rory sat up to look over her mother's shoulder while Luke stood back. He saw that Jess was still there with a blank, frustrated look on his face.

Lorelai opened the notebook and looked over the first few pages.

"I wish I could wake up," Rory said.

"Me, too, honey."

"Maybe we will."

"Yeah, maybe."

Luke could feel tingles through his numbness. "What are you talking about? What's going on?"

"I don't know," Lorelai said with a sad smile. She wiped a tear from her cheek and Luke's heart skipped a beat. "We just...oh, we really shouldn't be crying in a diner, Rory."

"Can I see what's in there?" Luke asked tentatively, looking towards the notebook Lorelai held limply in her hands.

"Sure, why not? What's left to lose? Except my dignity, my pride, my ability to ever come back in here again..." She gave the small pad to Luke. "Don't look at it until we leave, all right?"

"What's in there?"

"Oh, you know – stuff."

"Sure."

"Come on, honey," Lorelai said, and she took Rory's hand as they walked out of the diner. The door slammed and they were alone again in some quiet, piercing buzzing sound.

"What's in there?" Jess asked. He wasn't looking very tough now.

"I'm not sure that I want to know."

"Something that Kirk wrote?" Jess asked. He didn't want to believe it, and neither did Luke.

"Right there's his name: Kirk Edward Gleason. Wouldn't you know his initials spell 'keg'?"

"I'll do it." Jess said evenly. "How big a deal could it be?"

"They were crying." Luke looked him in the eye.

Jess picked up the notebook and went upstairs. Luke would wait for a sound.


	8. Gilmore Girls

**A/N**: Hello, everyone. I just thought I'd leave a little note to clear up a few things: I've gotten a number of emails and reviews which say "I don't get it". I'm _so_ sorry if chapter four, or any of the other chapters confused you. I just want everyone to think a little more. That's the whole point! Also, please sign your reviews if you have an account with FanFiction. If not, leave an email address so that I can say hi and thanks in other ways besides a general author's note. Thanks.

GILMORE GIRLS

So basically, no one knows what's going on. Jess took the notebook upstairs, and then it just cuts away. There's like a fade-out or something. In a way, I feel sorry for him 'cause he's gonna have to go through all of this ON TV, and he doesn't _know_ he's on TV of course. I mean, he should know that they don't show anything inappropriate, but still – wouldn't you be freaked out if you were like, writing in your diary or something, or having some personal intimate moment, and then you find out that like, 5 million something people were watching? I would be mortified. But now that people are starting to find out what's going on, it's just gonna _suck_ for them. I don't think that they'll show that part on the show, I hope not because Lorelai's really sad, Luke's really sad, Rory's really sad, Kirk's sad. Who knows about Jess since no one wants to deal with _his_ problems. And Lane, oh, my God – once Dave comes into the picture, she's gonna be heartbroken, too. Mama Kim is gonna have to find out about him at some point. Basically this whole 'Revolution' thing…it's just going to ruin everyone's life. I like the people of Stars Hollow. I don't know them personally, but from what I've seen, they are nice people, and it's just not fair to have their dirty laundry just posted everywhere and everyone out there just knows everything. Like I said, I know I wouldn't want that to happen to me. There's really nothing I can do about it, though. Hopefully Kirk won't be a total idiot and let _everything_ out. He's being really secretive for some reason. I don't know. I don't know why but he just wants to keep this all to himself. Maybe he's God. No, that's probably not it. I don't know. Anyway, best of luck to everyone involved. I hope that everything turns out okay for y'all.

Sarah


	9. Lorelai

LORELAI

Someone knocked on the door. Lorelai sat up quickly and looked around, squinting. She couldn't make out any distinct shapes across the room; it was too dark. She twisted in the bed to un-stick her sweaty pajamas from the backs of her legs. In fact, she was damp all over, as if in some kind of internal heat wave, the kind where sometimes she ended up naked under cool sheets, by herself, not by herself.

Rory was still asleep beside her, her whole body rising and falling. She was still soft, and warm, like a doll. Her hair fluttered into a winding pattern from the overhead fan, and her cheeks puffed out. Her brow furrowed itself. Lorelai let out a breath and lay back down. She laid her face into the comfort of her feather pillow with her lips closed, her eyes closed, her feet in the air. She was enveloped by its mellifluous quality, enamored with its readiness to move, to obey her. There was power to a pillow. There was also a hole. The feathers floated out gently like pixies and went everywhere, were everywhere, suddenly swarming like a flock of angry birds. They rushed to her head, and captured her face, her neck, her arms. She was covered like a chicken, raw, but not plucked yet. She picked at the them, demons they were, swatted, rubbed and flailed her arms about, but to no avail. She jumped up and screamed, trying to run somewhere but getting no where. The tips of the feathers, the quills were poking, picking, pecking at her neck. The blood slowly seeped through to the other ends, the soft, white, innocence.

Red feathers.

Her stomach slowly shrank to the size of a peanut; her throat was dry, stuffed with the things. Where were her hands, her feet? They were no use anymore. She ran out into the street, hopping up and hopping down, trying to escape the stove, the burning…. she was being fried.

Rory!

Mom!

Rory was shaking Lorelai furiously, to make sure she was awake. She hadn't been fast enough this time. Lorelai had her hand on her forehead; she was feeling…. Rory was scared. She was scaring her daughter.

I wonder if they know I can't sleep at night.

I don't know…What did the doctor say?

Be a big girl, sleep in your own bed.

He did not say that.

Well, I think that's what the general sentiment was.

Her lips were dry. She needed to buy a new Chapstick.

_I hate chapped lips._

_Yeah, me too._

'Lorelai, have you been licking under your lip.' That was all the soothing that Emily would give.

I've learned that it's not as bad if I sleep sitting up.

Like a grandma?

Yeah, but not that your grandmother would do that.

In a rocking chair.

Yeah. Wow, I wish Max were here.

What?

He made me tea the first night we –

'Here you go.'

A long bed against the wall. His hair always looked so perfect. I'm smiling, my eyes squint up. They twinkle. Is that how other people see me?

I know.

He made me tea, and then he sat up with me – 

_What kind of tea was it?_

I don't remember. It was warm. There was a window across from the bed.

_Hmm._

– and let me lie on him until I fell asleep. No one else would do that.

Do you want to go back to sleep?

Sure.

It was pretty bad, huh?

What?

Luke's.

Not bad. Just…when it looks like all your doors are closed, you start to remember all the times they were open.

A big grin on his face. A big grin on mine. He doesn't shave, but he showers, and it's nice. We're standing there, I'm wearing some blue vest and a long-sleeved white sweater with stripes. It's very picturesque, like a movie. Like our movie? Movie? TV show? One-hour special? Which is it?

_I don't know. I didn't ask Kirk_, she said shrugging as if she hadn't asked him exactly how to iron a patch onto ripped jeans.

Huh, well, you should ask him.

_Okay, I will._

Everyone should go about their business!

Taylor always stands up on his toes when he talks. He raises his eyebrows, and he's literally looking down on everyone. It's so condescending, and it's not like he even knows what's going on. Whenever he talks, his double chin just bounces, like he's a turkey. Based on some trivial information Kirk gave him… it's stupid. It's stupid. It's _so_ stupid.

Everyone should just do their own thing, he said.

Then Kirk showed up, and sat there, looking stoic in an expressionless kind of way.

Kirk, she said.

She was bending over and she hoped that blood wouldn't be seeping though the back of her pants now.

What are you doing? What are you going to do?

Luke wasn't there. Rory looked around, and neither was Jess.

What about Dean? Is there even a Dean factor anymore? Not very important.

I think we should bring it to the attention of the people here—

No.

On TV, this would be a funny moment, he would spit at me, or bite me. He would take me into his arms and kiss me, and _then_ I would wake up.

No.

This isn't about you, he said.

'This isn't about you, Lorelai.' Emily said. 'Not everyone is out to get you. And you'd be much better off if you let go of your stupid pride and realized that.'

Kirk sounded so serious. Who knew that he could be so serious?

What do you mean this isn't about me? This is about me!

You _try_ to make it about you. You _try_ to make everything about you. We'd never know that poor Sookie had any problems…all you do is talk about yourself.

That is not true. Besides – how would you know?

It's all in the stories, ma'am. Hello, Rory, he said, perfectly calm.

_Hello, Clarice._

There was more.

Lorelai took off her pink newsboy cap – the one that made her look like Britney Spears from the back – and set it in her lap. Rory sat next to her and crossed her ankles, looking demure, meek, austere. They were in the front row.

Sookie and Jackson arrived and sat across from them. They waved. Lorelai smiled and let out a big sigh. She was doing that more than usual. She lifted her hair off the back of her neck, and there was a small brown mole there.

Taylor walked up to his podium and banged his mallet. Miss Patty was next to him, wearing all black, no bright colors. Kirk was sitting a few feet from Patty, chewing on a fingernail.

'Lorelai, stop biting your nails.' The door was open, and sunlight streamed into the mansion. Lorelai was so tiny. Well, she was six.

When I was little, I had bitten my nails, so the maid – through Emily's commands – would smack my hands every time she caught me nibbling my fingertips. What was her name? Luella. Luella and Lorelai. I should find her.

Now, Kirk has brought it to my attention that Stars Hollow is being… well…_monitored_, Taylor said.

Monitored how? Patty asked. She has to move her whole body just to turn and look at Taylor.

My knuckles have gotten wider a little bit. My hands were always too small to play the piano. _I hope I can get off my wedding ring._ That hair has always been there.

'I'm telling you: one of these days I'm gonna pluck that sucker out –'

'Leave it,' he said. 'It gives you character.'

'What! I don't already have character?'

'Plenty.' He kissed her forehead, and she hugged him around the waist, the waste.

I don't know the specifics, Taylor said over murmurs. Kirk?

Oh, but Kirk was too busy re-buttoning his shirt to hear Taylor.

Kirk? he repeated.

Kirk had such a funny walk. Who would ever want to be with him? His pants were too short for him, like he was still in fourth grade or something. His toes alternated this turning inward and turning outward pattern so that he looked like he was doing that 80s dance, from that one video… who was that?

Da-da-da-da-da-da-da, I can be your long-lost pal… la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la you can call me Al…

What are you singing?

Who sings that song?

I don't know.

Was it Simon and Garfunkel, or Billy Joel?

I don't know.

Yes, you do.

You're not paying attention – oh, wow, she gasped.

Tobias was holding apart Kirk and Taylor. Kirk and Taylor.

Kirk! You didn't tell me that! Taylor shouted. You did not tell me that!

Everyone was standing up and moving around, and yelling and screaming

Everyone was standing up and moving around, and yelling and screaming.

_Wow, sounds bad, Luke said._

It was. It really was.

He came around from behind the counter and sat down next to her on a stool. She hugged him around the waist, his waist.

It really was very chilly outside. Lorelai had lived in Connecticut her entire life, yet that didn't stop her from clashing her clothing with the temperature. That's what Mariah Carey did. 

Was that in _Rolling Stone_? The thing where they step out of the limo onto the back alley or whatever.

Wherever it was, it was during Mariah's butterfly transformation period, and so she was wearing  the Manolo Blahnik's that she always wore – 

Wow, great shoes.

– and something black, short, and tight. The interviewer had said, "Well, Mariah; it's November. Don't you want to dress accordingly?" And she responded with: "Huh?" Not that Lorelai wanted to compare herself with Mariah Carey; still, though – she could have waited until May or June when it was comfortably warm to break out the open-toed's.

'There is a difference between quirky and tawdry, Lorelai.'

'I am funky, Mother. That is cool. It works for George Clinton.'

_What on earth are you talking about?_

'What on earth are you talking about?'

Lorelai looked around.

What is going _on_!? There's just a bunch of commotion here.

_'Do the locomotion…'_ Hmm, Kylie Minogue jumping around in ugly clothes next to a train. Thank God I'm not named Kylie.

Gilmore is a funny name. So is Lorelai. Yep, it's definitely cold out here.

Will you pick up my glove, hon?

Sure.

Thanks.

_Hello, my name is Lorelai Gilmore_. Maybe not Lorelai. That's kind of pretty.

'That's a stupid name,' he said.

'So is Christopher.'

'It's _Chris_. It is _not_ stupid.'

'It is _so_.'

Yeah, it was southern-sounding, like: "Lo-ah-liah! Oh, Lo-ah-liah, come on ovah heuh, deah." But Gilmore was just so bumbling and awkward. Maybe Rory would change it one day. Lorelai Mariano had a nice ring to it.

You shouldn't chew on your hair, hon.

Thanks, Grandma.

Don't say that.

You chew on your hair.

That's because it makes guys want me. Oh no.

Don't worry, that's not the reason.

Good.

I need a hair cut. Will you ask Anne tomorrow?

Sure .

As they walked away – Lorelai towards Luke's and Rory towards home, Kirk could be seen in the background, still trying to wax poetic about "all the things he'd learned from _Chicken Soup_." To miss it would be okay, because really – How important was it going to be in the end,_ anyway_?

Where's the town meeting crowd? Luke asked.

Golly, I don't know.

Musta been a real good one, then. Everyone needed time to go home and recoup.

I wish.

How's everything? He rocked back and forth.

Can he dance? How's his rhythm?

I don't know. What does that mean anymore?

So morbid, he said.

Yeah, well.

God, this purse is ugly. Cow-printed. _Cow-printed_. There might as well be an elephant hat that goes along with it. They really should have had better stuff at Filene's. I guess that's why it's called the clearance bin.

'Just clear on out of here!' Sookie shouted waving her arm at the group of dogs.

Wow, I love Sookie. And this purse doesn't even match a single thing I'm wearing. God. I need to start thinking more before I come here leave the house, I mean. 

Where's Jess?

In New York.

_'I'm in New York/No need for words now/We sit in silence/You look me/In the eye directly/I think it's Wednesday/The evening/The mess we're in and oh…'_

Why's he in New York?

_'The city sunset over me…'_

Ah, visiting his mom.

He should come back.

He is. Tomorrow. Why?

Good.

_'Everyone should just do their own thing.'_

Do your thing. "Do Your Thing" was the name of an Isaac Hayes song. Taylor in a long black trench coat, sunglasses, pointing towards the camera. Wearing lots of leather, too, on a street in New York, and it kind of looked like the one Mariah was on.

_Hello, I'm Taylor, and I'm here to risk my life for a brother man_.

Rick.

What's so funny? Luke asked.

A number of things.

Thom Yorke sings that part about being in New York, and his name is Thom Yorke. _That_ was really funny. Rory reads a lot. That's how she spends her spare time.

_And what do you do?_

I think. It feels weird, not watching _Cheers_ re-runs as much. And I'm old, too.

_You're not old._

Thirty-three! That's old. I was supposed to have opened that stupid inn by now, be married with children, drinking hot chocolate on the weekends, and taking strolls with my dashing James Brolin-type husband. But I want nice hair.

_Okay._

Luke is thirty-five. How old will we be someday?

_I don't know._

His parents died so young.

There was a spot on the counter.

Our house is a mess. I should clean more often, but do I? No. I don't do anything that I ever say that I'm going to do. Why should I open an inn? Why is it even important? His parents died so young… they died so young, and… and Luke had been so young, and when people die, there's all sorts of stuff to sort out, but it can't be sorted out, because they're dead and gone, and you can't ask them anything. And isn't it stupid to think that you're going to mitigate the situation by– 

_Well, it's more than a situation, Lorelai. It's… I don't know how to explain. I guess you just have to deal, find stuff to fill in the holes_.

Yeah, I bet Liz – Nope, no Liz. How is Jess at helping Luke (and his heart)? Luke is proud of him, he wants to protect him… out of instinct, or maybe out of love. Someone has to love Jess. Lorelai, you are so mean.

_'Who would want to be with him?'_ Who would want to be with him? Who would want to be with me?!

_I would_, he said.

_Oh, you're just saying that._

Not that he would ever say that.

Luke leaned against the counter and looked out the window. There was a dull noise.

Can I have some tea? she asked bleakly.

Lorelai put her head on the counter, enveloped by her arms that were growing in flabbiness. From the side she looked depressed, curled up like a cursive 'Q'. And obviously, she wasn't depressed very often, not to the viewer, or to any "viewer" for that matter.

Everyone probably thinks that I'm selfish and childish for the things I've done to my parents when Luke doesn't have any parents, and yet his father's name is still hanging above his diner. That's true devotion.

'You got me a True Devotion card?'

No, not True Devotion. The cards with the big-headed little kids on the front… Rory had a tea set with them. Luke wouldn't know.

'The little kids on the front are cute.'

'Yeah, well, okay.' He was so sweet, so perfectly sweet.

I guess they've all been good guys, in some way. Luke has the clearest eyes. That must say something about him as a person.

Lorelai peeked. The first stapled packet she picked up was about Dean, from the beginning when she was trying to find out about him right before Rory switched to Chilton. She'd guessed that Dean had dark hair, romantic eyes, and looked a little dangerous.

That's how Jess looks! I've seen the way he looks at her, it makes me uncomfortable.

Lorelai?

Before Rory runs away with him… I need to do something.

Why don't you come upstairs?

Oh, wow, she said as Luke opened the door to his apartment. It's _messy_, she admitted quietly, strategically walking to the center of the room.

Yeah, I know, acknowledged Luke. Jess unpacked almost everything to make sure there wasn't anything he wanted to return, you know.

Yikes, Lorelai said. Her hands were clasped together.

And someday, they'll be wrinkled. I didn't know Luke had a record player. I didn't know Luke was musical at all. I love the way LPs sound.

 "Now," the man said, over the scratches.

He sounds like a preacher.

"What we was tryin' to say, just before we got started a little while ago, is that we're getting ready to do a little walkin'." 

Is that Martin Luther King?

I've heard this, she said.

Shh…

"And when you have real change, everybody's thing begins to change; teacher begins to teach a new lesson; the preacher begins to preach a new sermon. And the musician often tries to capture the new things so that we might have melody, and have rhythm as we do our thing. And we're saying that the most important thing of all is that no matter how dreary the situation is, and how difficult it may be, that the song really doesn't matter until the song begins to get you down…."

I've heard that before. I've heard that before, but…

"It's rough and tough in this world, and there's a lot of stuff goin' down, so you gotta walk tall! Walk tall! _Walk tall_!"

I never listened to the words before.

I never heard the words before. Is that Martin Luther King?

Uh, no. Cannonball Adderley. Martin Luther King was dead by then.

Sounds like him, though.

Kind of.

Maury has that record.

I listen to it a lot, Luke said. Especially _now_.

It's called…

'Baby, That's What I Need'.

Now? What's happening now? He's not going to tell me, then. He is the last person to find out about anything and I can't believe I cried in his diner. I'm not going to do that again.

What other records do you have?

What? he said. He looked very clearly confused. Johnny Cash.

Let's listen to Johnny Cash.

Why did I have to wear a pink hat with a cow purse? I need to look at myself before I leave to come here the house. Then, this might count for something. Listening to old records… how romantic.

Lorelai tilted her head to the side, in thought; it occurred to her that she had never been in any man's apartment, just listening to an alto sax play. She smiled.


	10. The Misfortune

THE MISFORTUNE

And she had been such a pretty girl, too. If only she could have known that, if someone would have told her. It hadn't been until a very long time after the fact, however, that someone else had noticed her sitting there, looking quite calm, omniscient, bitter, weary … distraught.

The biggest mystery to everyone was how she had not known about the painting. In all that time in all those years, she'd never known that her image was everywhere, in so many forms, for really quite anyone to see. She found out, and, in the end wanted to know: Had he lied to her?

But the very worst part was that now, so many years later, she was more of a mockery than a work of art. She had been something beautiful and original; everyone had been amazed with this different type of girl… but now they cut out her head and put it on naked girls' bodies; now they made up stories about how she felt, what she was thinking, her pensive look and every word; now they played with her face, yet it remained startlingly recognizable. In her misery and vulnerability everyone had discovered who she was and then quite contentedly played along. But to her, no one had spoken a word….

Was she even real?

Hanging by the Mona Lisa was the beautiful Rory Gilmore, and my – was she ever so sad.


End file.
